They Messed with the Wrong Heiress

The call came just as I was wiping down the marble countertop of the patisserie, the scent of sugar and browned butter clinging to the air.

“Hello? Where are the fifty strawberry chiffon cakes I ordered?” The voice was sharp, laced with an impatience that set my teeth on edge.

I frowned, my mind instantly scrolling through the day’s orders. A fifty-cake order? I’d remember that. It would have been half my day.

After a quick double-check of our system, I confirmed my suspicion. Nothing.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but we don’t seem to have an order under that description. Is it possible you called a different bakery?”

The line went silent for a beat, then a click. She’d hung up.

I shrugged it off. A simple mistake.

Ten minutes later, the same number flashed on the caller ID.

“What is wrong with you people? I just called to chase my order. Are you stupid?”

This time, before I could even form a response, she hung up again.

The final call came just as I was about to lock up for the evening.

“Are you trying to go out of business? You took my money. Where is my product?”

I pressed my fingers to my temples, forcing down a wave of exhaustion and anger. I took a slow, calming breath. “Ma’am,” I said, my voice measured. “Could you please send me a screenshot of your order confirmation? I’d be happy to sort this out for you.”

“What did you just say to me?” Her voice pitched into a shriek. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Later that evening, an email landed in my inbox from the corporate head office. A formal complaint had been filed against me.

The reason: Moral turpitude. Seducing a married man.

1

My head was spinning with rage. The call from my regional manager, a man whose voice dripped with condescending, father-knows-best bullshit, did nothing to help.

“Clara, look, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life,” he’d said, “but you’re a young woman. You need to focus on hard work, not take shortcuts.”

“What are you talking about? Shortcuts?”

“I’ve smoothed this over for now,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The moment I hung up, the bell on the shop door chimed violently as it was shoved open. A woman, impeccably dressed in a style that screamed ‘I have more money than taste,’ stormed in.

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger directly at me.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she spat. “Store manager at your age. Who’d you have to sleep with to get this job?”

Only a few customers were lingering, finishing their evening coffee. The air crackled with tension.

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have any proof for these accusations? Because without it, this is slander, and I am well within my rights to call the police.”

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. It was as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world.

Her heels clicked menacingly on the tile floor as she advanced on me. With a single, fluid motion, she swept an entire tray of our signature macarons off the display counter. They scattered across the floor like shattered jewels.

My youngest employee, a sweet girl fresh out of high school, gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

The woman was still yelling. “The police? Go on, call them! You think you have the right after the disgusting things you’ve done?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. “I get it. Girls like you, from nothing, you have to claw your way up. You see a rich man and you latch on.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “But you don’t touch my man. He is not for trash like you to even look at.”

Her voice, sharp and piercing, had drawn a small crowd of onlookers who were now peering in through the front window. I felt my cheeks burn.

“Who is your man?” I asked, my voice tight. “And who the hell are you?”

“Still playing dumb!” she shrieked, her face contorting with rage. She cast a proprietary, bitter glance around my beautiful shop—the shop I had poured my life into. “The man who owns this entire bakery franchise is my father. You’re asking me who I am?”

She turned to her audience. “Everyone, come and see! This slut is trying to sleep her way to the top by seducing a married man, and now she has the nerve to give me attitude!”

Her dad?

A vein throbbed in my temple. This bakery, Sweet Blooms Patisserie, was a well-known national chain. I’d paid a two-million-dollar franchise fee, every cent from my own accounts, to open this location. And I knew the founder of the company personally. He didn’t have a daughter.

The woman was relentless. “My husband came in the other day to buy me some macarons. He told me how you were batting your eyelashes at him, how you made sure to touch his hand when you gave him his change. You whore.”

I stared at her like she was insane. Her long, glittering nails were inches from my face.

And then, I laughed. A real, genuine laugh.

The sound of it startled her into silence. Even the onlookers outside seemed to hold their breath.

“I have no idea who your husband is,” I said, my voice steady now. “But by all means, have him come here. I’d love to have a chat with him, face to face.”

“Have him come here?” She smirked, a triumphant, ‘I-knew-it’ expression spreading across her face. “So you can try to seduce him again, right in front of me? I’m not that stupid.”

I was fighting a losing battle against the fury boiling inside me. “This shop is mine. I paid the two-million-dollar franchise fee in full. Even if you were the founder’s daughter, you have no right to come in here and spread these lies.”

“Two million?” She made a sound of disgust. “Please.” She looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Where did a girl like you get two million dollars? On your knees?”

A few snickers erupted from the crowd outside.

My young employee, her face bright red, stepped forward. “That’s not true! Our manager isn’t like that at all, she…”

The woman cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, look, she’s brainwashed the little helper. Or is everyone who works in this store a cheap tramp?”

That was it. My composure, stretched thin for so long, finally snapped.

I slammed my palm down on the marble counter.

“Shut your mouth.”

2

The sharp crack echoed through the shop, silencing everything. Even the faces peering through the window went still.

I fixed my eyes on the woman. “You’d better have evidence for every single thing you just said,” I said, my voice low and cold. “Because when I call the police, and I will, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed the first two digits of 911, making sure she could see.

Her eyes widened slightly. With a swift movement, she knocked the phone out of my hand. It clattered to the floor.

She hadn't expected me to actually do it.

She grit her teeth, her carefully constructed outrage faltering. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, before turning on her heel and storming out of the shop.

The drama, for now, was over.

My employee rushed to my side. “Clara, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, my heart still hammering against my ribs. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself.

I thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, a man in a tailored suit walked into the shop.

It was Ethan. A guy I knew from high school.

He apologized profusely, his expression pained and helpless. It was only then that I understood. He was the husband. The one who’d supposedly bought macarons.

Except, I hadn't even been the one to serve him.

Ethan’s apology was so sincere it was almost a plea. “Clara, please, can we just let this go? Mimi… she’s just been spoiled by her family her whole life. She doesn’t mean any harm.” He wrung his hands. “And besides, no real harm was done, right? You’re running a business. It’s always better to keep the peace.”

His words sat badly in my stomach, a sour mix of condescension and cowardice. But I was tired of the drama. I just wanted it to be over. As he said, keep the peace. As long as this Mimi woman stayed away from me and my shop, I was willing to let it drop.

Just when I thought it was settled, Ethan, who had already left, reappeared in the doorway. He looked deeply uncomfortable, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

“Clara, can you just… can you just tell my wife that we barely know each other?”

That’s when I noticed his phone was still active, propped up in his hand. A video call.

I shot him an incredulous look before turning my attention to the phone. “That’s right,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t know him.”

Ethan let out a visible sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived. A shrill voice erupted from the phone’s speaker. It was her. Mimi.

“Then why are you meeting with him? There’s no such thing as a ‘platonic friendship’ between a man and a woman!”

Ethan sighed heavily, turning his back to me and lowering his voice. “Honey, I promise, there is nothing between us. In every way that matters—family, looks, status—she can’t hold a candle to you.”

That was the compliment that finally seemed to soothe her.

But his words were like acid in my ears. I looked at the smug, triumphant face of Mimi on the screen, then at the spineless man standing in front of me, debasing me to pacify his unhinged wife.

Suddenly, all my attempts at taking the high road felt like a joke.

“Ethan.” The smile was gone from my face. “Whatever is going on between you two is your business. But you don’t get to placate her by insulting me. It shows a stunning lack of class.”

Ethan’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. His eyes were filled with resentment, but he didn’t say a word.

Mimi, on the other hand, exploded. “You bitch! You’re flirting with him right in front of my face!” Her tirade then shifted to her husband. “And you, Ethan! Did I give you permission to see her? How dare you go behind my back!”

Ethan was a man who cared deeply about appearances. I could see the profound humiliation washing over him. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Unable to stand up to Mimi, he redirected his anger at the only person he could: me.

“Clara, my wife doesn’t like you,” he said, his voice stiff. “From now on, if we see each other, we’re strangers.”

Hearing her husband defend her so staunchly, Mimi’s voice on the phone became sickeningly sweet with victory. She decided to push her advantage.

“Clara, is it? I’m a kind person, really. I don’t want you to lose your job over this.” Her tone was pure condescension. “So here’s what’s going to happen. To put my mind at ease, you’re going to come to my house.”

She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m going to personally install monitoring software on your phone. And you’re going to give me administrative access to the security cameras in your bakery.”

3

I thought I had misheard.

Naturally, I refused. I was done with this conversation. I was done with them.

I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get. Out.”

Ethan’s face was a mask of fury. He shot me a hateful look, clutched his phone, and walked out.

Even from outside, I could hear Mimi’s voice, relentless and shrill.

“No, that’s not good enough! She didn’t agree! I need to be able to watch her!”

“You need to order her to come to the house right now! I have to inspect her phone!”

Ethan’s low, placating murmurs faded as they walked away.

…

I let out a long, shaky breath. My young employee came over, her eyes wide with worry.

“Clara… they don’t seem like the type to give up.”

“I know,” I said, my mind already racing.

Sure enough, three days later, Mimi returned. She was clinging to Ethan’s arm, and behind them trailed a small group of men. I recognized one of them instantly: Mr. Davies, the regional manager from corporate.

Davies, a portly man with a perpetually sweaty brow, didn’t waste any time. He pointed a fat finger at me and started shouting.

“What is wrong with you? First, you’re taking money from customers and not providing the product, and now you’re seducing them? Clara, you’re destroying the reputation of our brand!”

I didn’t argue. I calmly turned to my terminal, pulled up the transaction logs from the banking system for the entire week, and printed them out.

“As you can see,” I said, sliding the paper across the counter, “the fifty-cake order Mrs. Pierce mentioned never existed. So there was no ‘taking money and not providing product.’ What I’m more concerned about is why corporate headquarters would convict one of its franchisees based on an unsubstantiated complaint. It makes me question your entire management protocol.”

Mr. Davies didn’t even glance at the records. He slammed his hand on the counter. “Are you talking back to me? When I say you’re wrong, you’re wrong!” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial roar. “Do you have any idea who Mrs. Pierce is? She’s the daughter of the President of our parent company! You think you can afford to cross her?”

He was practically spraying spittle in my face.

Beside him, Mimi’s chin was so high in the air it was a wonder she didn’t lose her balance. Ethan stood slightly behind her, watching the scene unfold with a cold detachment. There was a flicker of pity in his eyes—the kind of pity reserved for the gods on Olympus looking down on the squabbles of mortals.

I almost smiled.

The President of the parent company had only one child—my childhood best friend. The entire reason I chose to franchise with this brand was because our families were so close.

Could it be? Did Uncle David have a secret daughter I never knew about?

Mimi let out a derisive snort, snapping me back to the present. She tapped my forehead with a long, sharp, bejeweled nail.

“Did you hear that? My father owns the whole company. You’re just a cheap whore who sells her body for money. How dare you argue?”

Ethan stepped forward then, his face a mask of patronizing concern. “Clara, I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are. Just apologize to Mimi. Beg for her forgiveness. It’s the easiest way.”

I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Mimi.

“You’re certain your father is the President of the parent company?”

“What a stupid question. Of course I know who my own father is.”

As if on cue, her phone rang. A man’s voice, deep and indulgent, boomed from the speaker.

“My darling daughter, I heard someone was giving you trouble. Does Daddy need to step in?”

Mimi shot me a triumphant glare. Before she could reply, Mr. Davies was already bowing and scraping to the phone. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t worry! I will make sure to give your daughter a satisfactory resolution.”

My brow furrowed.

That wasn’t Uncle David’s voice.

A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God. Uncle David hadn’t made some terrible mistake. Leo would have been devastated.

After the call ended, Mimi was practically glowing with smug satisfaction. She held out her hand as if bestowing a great honor.

“Alright. Hand over your phone. I’m going to check it and install the monitoring software.”

“You’re insane.”

I didn’t give her my phone. Instead, I quickly typed out a text to Leo.

[Hey, get over here. I think you have a new sister.]

4

Leo’s reply was instantaneous.

A single, massive question mark.

Mimi’s sharp eyes caught sight of my screen. “Oh? Already lining up your next sugar daddy?”

“You should really try to clean up your vocabulary,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “When your own mind is filthy, you assume everyone else is, too.”

My words had barely left my mouth when a hand cracked across my face. The slap was so hard my ears rang.

Mimi stood over me, her teeth bared, her face a mask of fury. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you? A piece of trash like you has no right to be so arrogant.”

She gestured to Mr. Davies. He moved immediately, locking the front door of the shop. The men she’d brought with her moved forward, forming a tight, intimidating circle around me.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, backing away slowly. My assistant had called in sick today; I was completely alone. The odds were not in my favor.

Mimi lifted her chin. “Go on,” she said to the men. “Strip her.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances. Mr. Davies swallowed hard. For all his bluster, he was a corporate drone, not a gangster. He hesitated.

“Miss… Miss Sterling… maybe this is going too far?” he stammered, shrinking back.

Even Ethan looked alarmed. He leaned in and whispered to Mimi, “Mimi, let’s just teach her a lesson. We don’t need to take it this far.”

“What are you afraid of?” she snapped, her eyes wild. “Anything that happens, I’ll take full responsibility.”

She glared at the hesitant men, her rage growing with every second of their inaction. Finally, she lost her patience.

She lunged at me herself, knocking my phone to the ground and clawing at my clothes.

Luckily, I was wearing a simple tracksuit, and the fabric was durable. She tugged and pulled, but it held. I fought back, twisting away from her grasp. The next time she lunged, I sidestepped.

Mimi, propelled by her own momentum, stumbled and fell hard.

The room went silent. Everyone froze.

Ethan rushed to her side, his face pale with panic. “Mimi, are you hurt?” He helped her to her feet, then turned to glower at me. “Clara, I thought you were smarter than this. How could you be so violent?” He cradled Mimi’s arm as if she were made of glass. “My wife is a delicate woman, raised in luxury. You couldn’t just let her be?”

Mimi was a whirlwind of emotions—furious that Ethan hadn’t helped her sooner, but touched by his fierce defense of her now. Conflicted, she channeled her rage toward the easiest target: Mr. Davies.

“You’re fired! Do you hear me? One word from me and you’ll be out on the street!”

That threat was all it took. Mr. Davies’s face went white with fear. He shot a look at the other men, a silent, desperate command. This time, they didn’t hesitate.

They grabbed me. Two of them pinned my arms behind my back, forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but it was useless. I was trapped, helpless.

As Mimi raised her hand to slap me again, I gritted my teeth and shouted, “I’m the daughter of the CEO of the Rhodes Group! You touch me, and you’ll regret it.”

For a brief second, everyone froze.

Ethan frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said, his voice laced with doubt. “In high school, you were just a normal kid. There’s no way you’re the daughter of a billionaire.”

My heart sank. My father had always insisted I maintain a low profile. To fit in at school, I’d deliberately downplayed my family’s wealth.

Mimi burst out laughing. “Pathetic!” She lifted her foot and brought her sharp heel down hard on my head.

A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my temple, and the room began to swim.

But Mimi wasn't satisfied.

“Hold her down!” she shrieked, pulling out her own phone and starting to record. “Get her clothes off. I want everyone to see this slut for who she really is.”

The men looked torn. This was a crime. A serious one. But their fear of losing their jobs was greater than their fear of the law. They took a deep breath and reached for my jacket.

Just as the fabric was about to tear, just as a wave of pure despair washed over me, the front door of the shop crashed open.

Silhouetted against the bright afternoon light was a familiar, slightly stooped figure.

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